


Mailman Conspiracies

by witch_lit



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, mail keeps coming to the wrong address au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_lit/pseuds/witch_lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec just wished the mail from apartment 2B didn't always end up in his postbox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mailman Conspiracies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by all of the cute shit I've recently read by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams, who I have the fattest fucking writing crush on. Love you.

           Some days, Alec just wanted to catch a break. Had to evacuate the lab for an hour because the University O Chem class was full of idiots, it turned out he’d put his underwear on backwards in his rush to leave in the morning, and for some god forsaken reason his mailbox was, once again, full of his neighbor’s mail.

           The universe had to be screwing with him. And, dear lord, was that his _mother_ calling him? She hadn’t been civil to him for years, not since he’d come out in his first year of university. He shouldn’t have picked up, he really should have known better, because he was stuck seething at Magnus Dickhead’s mail while he was chewed out over the phone by his mother for being unavailable to pick up his sister (drunk) from a bar the night before. He’d been asleep, so fucking sue him. She’d gotten home safely in the end, and wasn’t that what mattered?

            “I can’t believe you would leave your sister out in the cold like that!” Came her voice over the speaker. “I should have raised you better than that.”

            Alec fought back the urge to scream. “Okay, mom, love you too,” he more-or-less spat, hitting the End Call button. Jesus Christ on a cross, this day sucked.

            Alec glared at the mail in his hands like it had personally offended him. 2B and 4B were completely different places, and the postman ought to learn that. Alec wasn’t a mail jockey, despite what the universe had been conspiring. Annoyed, Alec trekked down from his apartment to the second floor (because the elevator was broken, naturally. It was, as stated, one of _those_ days). The complex was lucky it didn’t have any disabled patrons, otherwise there’d be others having horrible, no-good days.

            Alec could hear the faint sound of music when he was outside the door, so instead of sliding the mail under the door like he usually did, he knocked on the door.

            “Your fucking mail ended up in my slot again,” He yelled, stewing in his own irritation as the seconds ticked by. It was _not_ a day for eloquence.

            “Be there in a minute,” he heard from inside the apartment.

            Alec tapped his foot impatiently, part of him expecting he would spontaneously combust with all of his pent-up anger. There was only so hot his blood could boil before the molecules would expand past what his veins and arteries could allow as stretch room. God, that didn’t even make sense. He was such a science nerd.

            The door opened a minute later to a (handsome, admittedly) man in pajamas, cupping a phone in one hand and a small grin stuck to his face. Alec could practically feel the man’s eyes all over him, but he was so not in the mood.

            “Here,” he grunted, shoving the mail towards the man.

            “Ah, thanks,” said the man, taking the mail. “Sorry, just finishing up a phone call.”

            Alec nodded, intent on finishing up the conversation and heading back up to his apartment to get some goddamn sleep. He’d been in the lab for 14 hours, both helping his superiors and working on his own research. He was tired, he was pissed, his underwear was still on backwards, and he needed to cease any and all social interactions before he killed someone.

           The other guy did not seem to get the memo, putting out a hand for Alec to shake, which he grudgingly did.

           “I’m Magnus, by the way.” The guy, Magnus, stated. Alec probably could have figured that out from the mailing address, he wanted to snort. "And my mysterious mail delivery service is headed by...?"

           “Alec,” Alec said after contemplating just killing the guy and being done with it. It was 11 o’clock and he needed down time, like, yesterday. But noooooo.

           “Short for Alexander? Alexios? Alexi?” Magnus asked, relaxing in the doorway. 

           “Alexander.” He confirmed, gritting his teeth at the continued conversation.

           “Well, Alexander, as a thank you for bringing me my mail on the daily, why don’t I invite you in for a drink?” The guy asked.

           Alec looked at Magnus for a minute in disbelief. Couldn’t the guy tell he wanted out? Fuck, this was why he’d done his master thesis on bdelloid rotifers and not on people.

           “Look, I’m sure you’re a wonderful person,” Alec started. “But today has literally been one of the shittiest in a long line of shitty days so I’m just going to go back to my apartment and leave you to yours.”

           “Another time, then?” 2B said, not looking too crestfallen.

          “Maybe,” Alec shrugged, ready to roll his eyes.

          “See you ‘round, neighbor.”

          Uh huh. Sure. Definitely. “ _See you round,”_ Alec mocked under his breath as he walked up the stairs, away from Magnus of 2B. Ugh. He unlocked his apartment and flopped onto the bed. He was asleep before he could count to ten.

     

* * *

 

            When Alec woke up the next day (at a more reasonable time, as he didn’t have any lab sessions to lead), he felt kind of guilty for being a bit of a dick to the guy in apartment 2B. Deciding he would apologize the next time he got the mail, he went about his day. He ended up late at the lab again, heating potassium chlorate in test tubes and dropping in gummy bears to watch them violently explode. Hey, a guy’s gotta get his stress relief somewhere.

            So he didn’t even end up getting his mail (and all of Magnus’s crap, how many letters and notices did that man _get?_ ) until the day after, and when he tried knocking, Magnus didn’t answer. He just slid the mail under the door and promised himself he wouldn’t chicken out of trying again.

 

* * *

 

            Alec and Magnus didn’t cross paths again (or, Alec didn’t stumble over some very barren grass to Magnus’s brick road) again until Sunday of the following week.

            Alec hadn’t really expected Magnus to answer the door, as he hadn’t on the half-dozen previous attempts the chemist had made, so he was half bent and about to shove the mail under the door when it opened and he was staring at manicured toes. He shot up, nearly losing his balance in his hurry.

            “Hey,” he said, once he’d regained his upright position.

            “Hello there,” Magnus said, leaning to one side of the doorframe, his arms crossed against his chest.

            And, shit. Alec hadn’t realized just how attractive this man was, all caramel skin and bright eyes. He felt a little worse about being rude, because _damn._ The guy was taller than Alec, and that was definitely something Alec looked for in a man.

            “I brought you your mail,” Alec explained, blushing a bit as he held out the small stack of envelopes for Magnus to take.

            “So I can see,” Magnus said, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

            “Yeah. Er, sorry about being rude the other day. I didn’t mean anything, I just…”

            “Had a terrible day?” Magnus finished, and Alec nodded. “We all have those, it’s cool. Don’t do it again, though,” he winked.

            Alec felt his blush return, which was, frankly, embarrassing. He had a PhD and had numerous publications with his name on them, yet talking to this (gorgeous) stranger made him blush like a sailor after too much liquor. Speaking of liquor.

           “So, you up to that drink?” Magnus asked.

            Alec nodded. “Sure.”

           “You are over 21, right?” Magnus asked, gesturing Alec into his apartment.

           Alec laughed. “I’m 28.”

           “Really? Don’t look a day past twenty, I’ve got to say. We’re not too far apart.”

           “Oh?” Alec prodded.

           “It isn’t polite to ask a lady her age,” Magnus replied, turning up (his? her? their?) nose.

           “Are you a lady?” Alec asked, suddenly embarrassed by assuming Magnus was male.

           “Nope, I’m not, but thanks for asking. I think I’ll keep you.” Magnus smirked. “He/Him only for me.”

           “Ditto on that,” Alec replied. “So are you not going to tell me your age? Maybe _you’re_ not old enough to drink.” Alec teased.

           “Watch it young man, I’m older than you by a whole year. Respect your elders.” They laughed, and Alec knew this would be the start of a great new thing. Maybe the mailman wasn’t conspiring against him, after all.


End file.
